Soldier and Nature
by Cobar713
Summary: A soldier's men are trapped by Scanrans. Can he save them himself, or will the Wild lend a hand...


Connor decided that this had not been his lucky day. If it hadn't been one thing, it had been another. First, the horses had almost torn through their stakes, getting scared by the ever-circling stormwings and the occasional large predator. Next, their rations had required an inspection, since the beans had been infected with mold. And now, oh gods, now they were under attack!

The soldier sighed, wishing for the comforting stoutness of the wooden barricade that was built around their camp, which had been created as a small checkpoint close to a river, where Scanrans were likely to cross to get behind the Tortallan lines.

Now, though, the sergeant was stuck behind a flimsy, brittle bush, being pelted with arrows and large rocks with the rest of his company stuck back at the barricade, surrounded by Scanrans. He had made a break for it, using a hole in the lines caused by his men to rush for reinforcements.

The man cursed his commanding officer. "No need for more than one squad," he had said. "The river's too big for many Scanrans to cross," he'd said. "You'll know they're coming well in advance," he'd said. Fox-dung, Fox-dung, **Fox-dung**!

He had made it a few miles, sure, but he had known that the Scanrans would be following him. What he hadn't counted on was another band of raiders finding him and pinning him behind this bush! Now, the pursuing savages were sure to catch up to him, and then he was finished for sure. Nothing for it but to try and get through that war-band in front of him.

Connor un-sheathed his war-axe, the small, one-handed weapon he always carried, then peaked over the hedge quickly. In that moment, a bird, probably some kind of falcon, screeched long and hard, distracting the enemies in front of him. Using that chance, the soldier counted three Scanran archers wielding small bows that looked more for hunting than war-fighting, and a higher-ranked officer with an odd, conical hat that strangely blended with the surrounding forest.

Seeing all this in a half-second, Connor leapt from his bush and charged the barbarians. Still distracted by the birdcall, his foes didn't notice his charge until he was right on top of them, which gave him a chance to brain one of the archers with his axe. The man died with an agonized scream that cut off abruptly as the soldier's axe had cut into him.

The dying man's yell seemed to sober the three remaining foes, who had sort of stared while Conner had killed their comrade. With a curse in Scanran, the nearest archer raised his bow and prepared to shoot him. However, at that exact moment, a large bird swooped out of the sky and attacked the man, clawing at his throat and pecking at his eyes, wings beating to block his view.

The Scanran dropped his bow, hands flying up to protect his face from the hostile bird. He let out tortured screams, though Connor could hear sounds of gore as his face was torn and ripped by the bird.

Turning away from the gruesome scene, Connor saw the other archer move to aid his friend, while the leader was suddenly swinging a large, curved blade in his direction. Ducking, he took advantage of his bunched legs to leap forward, crashing into the Scanran leader and taking him down. Before he could recover, he received a kick in the chest, then an axe to the neck.

Turning around, he quickly tossed his axe like a discus, and heard a sickening crunch as it severed the spine of the third and final barbarian. The archer attacked by the bird was on the ground, several deep cuts all over his face and neck, several of which would've been fatal.

Seeing no sign of the bird, Connor decided to prepare for the inevitable fight with his pursuers. Wishing for his compound bow, he sighed and picked up a bow from the dead man, then tested its draw. He was surprised to find that it required some weight. The bow was extremely flexible, but it required more strength than a bow that size seemed to need. Either it had been mage-endowed, or they had a strong, supple tree to make these bows from.

He saw their benefit, since the smaller bow could remain strung while the highly mobile raiders were on the move, and could be used at a moment's notice. Its range wasn't as long as his long bow, but it was plenty long enough to be of use.

Hearing sounds in the brush, the soldier quickly grabbed the dead raider's quiver and jumped behind his bush again, but on the opposite side this time, seeking cover against the new threat.

He heard low voices, in hushed tones, then exclamations when they saw the scene before them. Next came running footsteps. _Not yet…no… now! _Popping up, he loosed a bow at the sprinting barbarians, hitting one in the heart. He saw one left, but before either of them could make a move to kill the other, a roar (A/N: Like this, Sarah) sounded from the brush on Connor's left, and a large, angry looking grizzly thundered into the terrified-looking Scanran, ripping his chest open with one paw-swing.

The screaming man died almost instantly, though the bear sniffed him to be sure of its victim's demise. Connor stood stock still, not moving for fear of attracting the bear's attention. The bear, however, seemed to have no intention to maim its prize, or attack him. Instead, it loped back into the woods, going back the way it had come.

Shaking his head, he sighed and took out a map. He did this now, since he was not under any duress from pursuers or roadblocks. Tracing his path, Connor cursed his ill luck. The nearest possible site for reinforcements was two hours run, and he had already come nearly 5 miles in the last half-hour of running. Distressed and feeling hopeless, he thumped onto his rear end and placed his head in his hands.

"Need help?" called a voice from behind him.

Whirling around, Connor had a bow knocked and pointed at… a young girl, wearing mottled brown-and-green breeches that seemed to break up her figure in the forest. "Who in Kered's name are you?!" he demanded, citing the lesser god of the winds and storms.

"The name is Daine. You might know me better as the Wild Mage," the girl said, holding her hands up in the sign of 'I'm not carrying a murderous weapon.'

His weapon was instantly dropped. "That was you, wasn't it? The bird, and the bear?"

"Yes, that was me. I was passing through here to the New Haven refugee fort when I spotted your trouble. Thought I'd lend you a hand."

"Thanks, but I could use a lot more than that. There are no reinforcements near here, and my squad is surrounded by angry Scanrans about five miles back."

Daine had come over and was now looking at his map of the area. Connor traced where they were, then pointed to the arrow he had marked for his camp. "I think I can help you a bit longer," she said, patting his shoulder. "Can you ride bareback?"

Nodding distractedly, he went back to studying the map. Suddenly, he heard a horse's whinny. Spinning around again he spotted a large, brown mare with eyes like the girl's, and he suddenly knew it was she, in horse form. Reaching down, he hurriedly picked up her clothing and placed it into his pack, then swung himself onto her and patted her side. "Go!"

The ride was quick, and soon they were too close for Daine to remain a horse. Placing her clothing on the ground, Connor turned and allowed her privacy while she changed and clothes herself. Once ready, they snuck forward until they were within sight of the camp.

The situation was relatively the same as when Connor had left. The Scanrans were still in small groups at different points along the camp's barricade, and there was a larger group in cover outside the camp's entrance, no doubt with bows and magic trained on any further escapers. There looked to be about 12 raiders total. Two groups of three were at the rear and to the left of the camp's entrance, and another group of two was at the right. The remaining four were at the entrance.

Inside the camp, the five soldiers had built a fall-back position with their shields, and had armed themselves with spears and bows to keep the barbarians back. "Got any ideas?" he asked the Wild Mage in a whisper, since they were not far from the rear group of savages.

"We could force them all into one large group, then rush 'em," she returned, just as quietly.

He nodded, then whispered his idea. "You become a bear, or another large creature, and scare this group. I'll pick off the two in the right myself, and you can improvise on the last of them. I'll shout a signal to my men, and we'll rush the remainder."

Daine nodded and slunk back into the woods. Connor himself crept around to the right of the camp, coming up directly behind the two Scanrans there. One of them was on watch, his eyes peering around the woods every few moments, while he leaned against a tree. On the other side of the same tree, the other raider was asleep, his head tilted to one side, almost bearing his neck at their invisible stalker. Taking the chance, Connor knocked an arrow and swiftly shot the sleeping man through the neck.

The now-dead-man never made a sound, though the whiz of the arrow alerted the man on watch. He spoke softly, not knowing of his partner's demise, and crept backwards around the tree. Connor's next arrow embedded itself in the savage's chest, and he took a step back and saw his deceased comrade, before dying himself without a sound.

Padding forward quickly, Connor reached the wood of the barricade. He proceeded to knock his fist against the wood in Morse code. _Friend. Signal soon. Attack then._

An answering knock told him that he was understood, and he silently moved forward until he had a clear shot at the four Scanrans near the entrance. He saw that one had a bow, and that one had another conical hat signifying he was the leader. But he was most worried about the two who were wearing full-length robes and sitting over a cauldron spewing black muck. They were obviously mages, and Raboc, the mage in his squad, was in no position to fight these men on equal footing. Gulping, he reached back into his quiver and slowly drew the only stormwing arrow he had. Each quiver he had seen the barbarians had seemed to have one in it, so probably the stormwings were just as plentiful there as they were in Tortall. He was lucky this was so, because arrows fletched with stormwing feathers were not effected by most shielding spells.

Nearby, the men around the camp were shouting in Scanran. From what he could understand, and hear from their side, a giant wild boar was coming dangerously close to the groups. Slowly, first one man retreated, then two, then the last three moved back to the main group of raiders. _Nice going Daine_ thought Conner. Swords do not stop an enraged charging boar, and now arrows they had would pierce to its heart.

Soon, Diane, in boar form was rounding the camp's barricade, and he could see her. And boy, were they right to run! Daine was the biggest boar he had ever seen, nearly 5 feet tall at the head, and the tusks were 4 feet each and menacing. (A/N: These proportions are not exaggerated. Wild boar is a large animal, and very dangerous. To kill it, one must pierce its heart, as most other injuries will only make it madder. **Knights** were dispatched to kill particularly menacing boars, and they rode them down from horseback, fully armored, and with lances _designed_ to kill the boars.)

The remaining raiders formed a loose circle around the mages and their leader, some with weapons towards the entrance, but most looking at the boar. The time was now. Giving a shrill, high whistle, Conner released his arrow, hitting the mage in the side, the arrow going deep, probably puncturing an organ or two.

His men gave a loud yell, rushing out of their cover and charging, their spears up and ready to stab down into a chest or throat of the enemy's. Arrows were loosed, killing two more of the barbarians before they knew what was going on. Daine chose that moment to charge herself, when the enemy's attention was divided between herself and the attacking soldiers. Her tusks tore through one man's side, and she trampled down another man, her weight crunching him like teeth crunch a nut.

Suddenly, a dark green magic slithered out of the ground and clamped onto the foot of the remaining mage. A sizzling, hissing sound told Conner that it burned. This was probably Raboc, using a spell he had a long time to cook up. The mage's own sick-looking grey magic attempted to fight it off, but he was unable to prevent the magic on him from growing, until he was quickly consumed, and burned alive. Conner tossed aside his quiver and new bow, then rushed forward and swung at the panicked leader, cutting deep into where his shoulder and neck met. His opponent died with a sickening gurgle.

The three remaining raiders died against the spears, two being stuck through like pigs, the last getting a slice across the chest and a blade in his neck.

After clapping his men on the back for good work, and complimenting Raboc on his use of magic, Conner turned to the boar, going up to it and thumping it on the flank, much to the fear of his men. "You have our heartfelt thanks, my friend," he said, looking into her eyes. "I wish you safe journey, and may the storms and winds bring you fortune in life," he said, using an oath from Kered again.

The boar tossed its head and trotted off, back towards where Daine had shifted.

"Talking to animals, sir?" Raboc asked with a thump on Conner's back.


End file.
